Mistletoe
by Peach-Fox
Summary: Just your generic Christmas Johnlock fanfic. 'Tis the season!


John ran out of his room, tie slung unceremoniously around his neck, hopping on one foot as he attempted to tie his shoe.

"Sherlock!" he yelled, "We're late! You know this Christmas party is for you, right?"

Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, handsomely dressed in his purple shirt, tight black pants, and well-polished dress shoes. He looked irritated.

"I am aware of the time, John."

"Well, why aren't we downstairs yet, then?"

"Because you're still getting dressed."

"Right…"

John finally admit defeat and knelt to properly tie his shoe. When he'd finished this, he stood to wrestle with his tie. He had no idea how it had gotten so tangled.

"Let me do that," Sherlock said, condescension heavy on his voice.

"Oh," John unconsciously leaned away when Sherlock drew up to him.

"Hold still," Sherlock ordered. John pursed his lips and stood quietly as the detective's slim fingers pulled the material into a knot. Sherlock seemed to be reveling in doing this as slowly as humanly possible. John puffed, eyeing his watch hurriedly.

"Yes, very good, thank you."

He ducked out of Sherlock's reach and bustled into the kitchen.

"I hope these cookies are edible, Sherlock," he called from within.

"Please, John, I know how to make cookies," Sherlock scoffed.

"Do you have the gifts? Good. Let's go."

The men hurried down the stairs and through the open door of Mrs. Hudson's flat. The landlady met them as they came in.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, lost track of time," John said. Sherlock lurked moodily behind him.

"Don't be silly, dear, everyone's just arrived."

Sherlock followed John into the sitting room, where the men placed their gifts beneath a small, extravagantly decorated Christmas tree.

"'Bout time," Lestrade turned from his conversation with Mycroft to eye at the doctor and detective.

John grinned.

"Nice to see you too, Greg. Is Molly here yet?"

Lestrade nodded toward the kitchen, and John trotted off in that direction.

"Haven't seen you around the yard lately, Sherlock," Lestrade said. Sherlock snorted.

"Haven't been any decent cases," he said.

"Triple homicide, you sod!" Lestrade argued. Sherlock smirked.

"That's the best you can do?"

"Dear brother, perhaps a tad more respect for our good city's police system?"

Lestrade grinned at Mycroft, who returned a pinched smile. Sherlock rolled his eyes. John emerged from the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson and Molly, all three of them carrying trays with various snacks and beverages.

"Sherlock made these ones," John announced, offering a tray laden with small cream colored cookies. Lestrade and Mycroft ceased their blatant flirting, overcome with curiosity of the detective's culinary skills. Molly and Mrs. Hudson also crowded near to sample one of the sweets.

"Sherlock, these are delicious!" Molly said with surprise. Sherlock glared at her.

"Please contain your astonishment," he said.

"Really, though, I had no idea you could bake," John said, grinning, "you should do it more often."

Sherlock frowned.

"My brother has many undiscovered talents," Mycroft said, raising his eye brows. Lestrade laughed.

"Oh, really?" he teased.

Sherlock opened his mouth to voice a scathing retort, but John had grabbed his sleeve and was pulling him over to the tree.

"Did you put the presents under here, Sherlock? We're doing the exchange now, come on."

The rest of the party followed, exchanging small smiles.

"I'm sure you all know how this works," Molly said, picking up a gift and smiling, "The first person chooses a gift, and the next person can either choose another gift from under the tree, or take the gift from the previous person. Questions?"

Sherlock had paled visibly, brow wrinkled in thought.

"I thought we were just exchanging gifts between one another," he said. John gave him an exasperated look.

"Sherlock, I told you this was a white elephant exchange. It shouldn't matter, though, as long as you brought a gift."

Sherlock stared at the present he had brought, a small box wrapped in delicate golden paper.

"Ah…"

"Greg, why don't you go first?" Molly smiled. Lestrade grinned.

"Alright," he agreed. The inspector fished under the tree until he found a large green package. Mrs. Hudson chose a small cylindrical gift, followed by Mycroft, who chose a medium rectangular gift. Sherlock seemed to be calming slightly, until Molly reached under the tree and chose the small golden gift.

"John, why don't you-" Molly began, but Sherlock cut her off by stepping up and plucking the golden package from her hand. The assembly stared at him.

"I don't think you're supposed to take your own gift," Lestrade began, but was silenced by a scathing look from Sherlock. John quietly took the last gift under the tree, a small brown box, and cleared his throat. For a moment the guests stood silently, looking around the room.

"Eggnog!" Mrs. Hudson cried suddenly, "I almost forgot! John, Sherlock, I think I stored a few extra cartons up in your flat. Will you boys fetch them for me?"

"Yes, certainly," John said. Sherlock grumbled an incoherent complaint, but followed John out of the room and up the stairs.

"Molly looks lovely tonight, doesn't she?" John said cheerfully. He tossed his jacket on the armchair as he entered the kitchen, deeming the flat too warm for such attire. Sherlock shuffled in after John, frowning. He was still clutching his white elephant gift.

"In Japan Christmas is a holiday celebrated almost exclusively by partners." Sherlock said loudly.

John turned from the open refrigerator to stare at the detective.

"Sorry?"

Sherlock grabbed John's arm and tugged him into the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room.

"You heard me," he growled. John stared, wide-eyed, at Sherlock. As he looked up at the detective, he caught sight of a small green bundle hanging above the frame.

"Is that mistletoe?" he asked, licking his lips nervously.

Sherlock responded by placing a soft, hesitant kiss on the doctor's mouth. John closed his eyes and linked his hands through Sherlock's. The kiss didn't stay chaste for long. Encouraged by John's hands, Sherlock pressed himself closer to the doctor, wrapping one arm around John's neck and the other around his waist. John slid his tongue into Sherlock's mouth and ran it around the inner rim of his teeth. They parted, breathless, after several moments of this.

Sherlock sighed and lowered his lips to John's neck to nip at his throat.

"You are an exceptionally thick man, John," Sherlock said, biting hard. "To such a point that I had to rely on Mrs. Hudson's tiresome habit of matchmaking to get you alone. Do you really think she would store anything edible in our flat?"

"Ha," John replied.

He caught Sherlock's lips again and pushed him forward across the room, onto the couch to fall on top of him. He felt an uncomfortable square shape digging into his thigh, and removed his mouth from Sherlock's to investigate.

"Ah. Sherlock, what is this?" John asked, holding up the golden box. Sherlock cleared his throat. He was already fairly red from his interactions with his flat-mate, but he seemed to brighten even more.

"Nothing of consequence. I'll take it back now…"

John sat up, pinning Sherlock beneath him, and began to peel off the golden wrapping. Sherlock watched him unhappily, but made no moves to stop him.

John popped open the box and pulled out a pair of red socks.

John stared at Sherlock, who returned his gaze steadily.

"I'm not good with gifts," Sherlock frowned.

John collapsed onto Sherlock's chest in a fit of laughter. Sherlock buried his hands in John's hair, eyes narrowing.

"Don't laugh. I'm not good with this sort of thing, either."

He ruffled the sandy blonde hair.'

"I didn't know how to bring it up before tonight. Christmas seemed like the best opportunity."

John smiled into Sherlock's shirt.

"Sherlock, I would have been thrilled any time you harassed me with obscure cultural references before forcing yourself on me under festive greenery. Christmas is a perfect time for this."

Sherlock tugged John into another long, breathless kiss. John let his hands wander down to Sherlock's hips, now that the distraction of the present had been removed.

"John?" Sherlock murmured around the doctor's lips.

"Mm?" John kissed along Sherlock's jaw.

"I think Mrs. Hudson put up more than one piece of mistletoe."

John nibbled at Sherlock's ear, and smiled.

"Well, we'd better start finding it."


End file.
